


I Know the Pieces Fit ('Cause I Watched Them Fall Away)

by PhoenixDragon



Series: The Unthinkable Verse [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dark, Horror, M/M, Multi, OT3 Mentioned, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2012-06-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixDragon/pseuds/PhoenixDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>So far, it had been eight months since her death, and this was only the second planet they had landed at and actually stepped foot upon.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know the Pieces Fit ('Cause I Watched Them Fall Away)

**_The Unthinkable Series_**

**'I Know the Pieces Fit ('Cause I Watched Them Fall Away)'**

**_____________________________________________________________________**

**A/N:** Written for 's **Prompt:[Gravity](http://who-contest.livejournal.com/85593.html)**. Definite mentions of an OT3 that evolved into Slash. I apologize for the length - seems Rory has spent waaaayyyy too much time with Eleven and has thusly become rather long-winded. Yeesh.

**All Other Warnings and Disclaimers to be found at Part One**  
 **_____________________________________________________________________**

** ~Chapter Two~ **

The air reeked of heaviness, like rocks had been placed in the pockets of his lungs: the atmosphere layered and condensed so every breath was a struggle. His heart thudded slowly in his chest as he dragged one foot in front of the other, knees complaining like weights had been tied to the backs of them – counter-balancing a near impossibility.

“We won’t…be here long,” the Doctor said breathlessly, struggling to maintain his own balance as they clambered over dangerous rocks and outcroppings lining the ravine. “There’s just…there’s something…I’ve got to see…then…we’ll be going.”

Rory nodded, too tired to even ask what it was they were looking for. He was just happy to be out of the TARDIS, breathing air (even if it was thick) that wasn’t restricted by four walls, a ceiling and a floor. He concentrated on keeping up, eyes always on the Doctor when they weren’t on the ground or the strange juttings of rocks from the canyon below. Paranoia and over-protectiveness had served him well so far, so he was sticking to it.

He sometimes wondered if the Doctor comprehended that things were different now, even beyond the fact that Amy – 

So…

He wondered.

And he watched.

So far, it had been eight months since her death, and this was only the second planet they had landed at and actually stepped foot upon. The TARDIS had come to ground on several planets, but between their grief and the Doctor’s almost tangible fears, they had never ventured out. The airships that had swept over the last actual planet they had stepped out on (the forsaken rock they had lost Amy on), was unexpected. 

In the Doctor’s own words, it was impossible. 

The Time Lord was understandably shaken after that – reluctant to expose Rory (not himself, he never seemed concerned for himself), to any other unforeseen dangers. He seemed less inclined to trust his own (much less the TARDIS’ ) judgment anymore and that left Rory feeling more sad and lost than ever before. That confidence was so much a part of the Doctor, when it slipped away the way it had…

Rory stumbled and the Doctor jerked around so quickly it almost seemed to defy the denseness of the atmosphere. The fear and weariness that had become so much a part of him descended like a cloak, his body tensed for disaster before he could see that Rory was okay. 

Rory waved at him in an irritable fashion, more agitated with himself than the instant concern on the Doctor’s face. He cursed internally and hurried as best as he could to catch up, knowing the only thing that was going to keep the Time Lord from hawking him was for him to be right beside him where he could be easily seen and worried over.

“Atmosphere is…rather _weighing_ ,” the Time Lord said, each word as much a struggle as walking, it seemed. “I promise we’ll…be going soon. You will…head back…before I will, though. Not good for you here. Shouldn’t have…shouldn’t have brought…”

He shook his head and concentrated on walking, knowing the frown on Rory’s face was intended for him. They couldn’t be out of each other’s sight now – it was crippling, it was _unhealthy_ , but for now it was necessary. The Doctor sure as hell knew Rory wouldn’t have let him take one step out of the door without him. Just as he knew he could never leave Rory in the TARDIS without worrying and rushing and getting himself hurt just to get back to him if he had actually succeeded in convincing him to stay behind.

Rory willed the phrase ‘over my dead body’ out of his mind with a shudder of horror, the innocuous phrase so much more sinister now than it ever had been before. It was amazing how such turns of speech held such gravity to them; something you didn’t think about until it happened to you. He mulled over speech, slang and other aspects of the language of his native tongue while he slogged along – the mental distraction welcome, but not enough to completely engross him. He still had a Time Lord to watch – one who had displayed a terrifying recklessness and lack of self-preservation more than once the last few months. 

Well, more pronounced than before, anyway. He had always been reckless and jumping into a fray without thought for himself. He tried to keep them safe – he was never really reckless with his companions (that Rory could see), but since Amy had…. _died_ …he was more twitchy than ever about Rory’s safety, but so much more careless with his own. Suicidal, really. But that was a word Rory tried to avoid even within his own mind. 

It frightened him that word. It made him sad, angry and desperate. When that happened he needed to touch things – more often than not, he’d touch the Doctor (when allowed, which was most of the time) – just to reassure himself that they were both still _here_.

That this wasn’t the nightmare it seemed to be so often here of late.

The Doctor smiled wistfully at him, almost like he could hear the dark turn of Rory’s thoughts and Rory loved and hated him for that smile all at once. He had no idea of his own importance. Of the _need_ Rory had for him. The gravity of what they meant to each other as dense as the planet they now stood on; it went both ways, that need. The Doctor could only see his own though – he could never see the need was mutual.

 

 _The dark – always in the dark. The Time Lord seeming to be unable to touch when there was light…though it wasn’t to hide Rory, it was to cover_ himself _._

_Slow, needful kisses in the darkness – fingers entwined, bodies tucked close to one another –_

_“I can be…I can be whoever you want,” the Doctor would whisper. “I can be whoever you need.”_

_‘_ I need you _,’ was what Rory always wanted to say, but he knew (to his sorrow) the Time Lord would never hear him. He would only hear rejection and Rory could never, would never do that to him._

_He knew what was being offered, he knew what the Doctor was saying. And he was grateful, even as it enraged him. He wanted to accept it, to ease the Doctor’s mind, but all that acceptance would do in the end was confirm to the alien that he wasn’t wanted, that he wasn’t important. That he couldn’t be loved for who and what he was._

_That he was a means to an end._

_“Whoever,” a soft whisper at his throat, a kiss to his collarbone, buttons being deftly (swiftly) undone as the alien slid to his knees. “Whatever you need, Rory…”_

_‘_ You _,’ Rory would think, gratitude, sorrow and need replacing the rush of blood in his veins, making him feel heavy; the gravity of the situation brought home every time before pleasure would wipe it all away again. Everything made for Just Two. Everything narrowing to right now, right here – and all the possibilities it brought with it. ‘_ Just you… _’_

 

He shook off the stray turn of his thoughts, the sorrow they carried with them – the atmosphere heavy enough without his mind adding to it. He bent his mental wanderings to how far they were from the TARDIS and how much further they had to go. He was happy to leave the confining (that was a laugh) walls of the Time Lord’s machine – but he was as nervous about venturing beyond those walls as the Doctor himself was. Fear of what happened to Amy happening to the Doctor at the forefront of his worries with each step they took away from the machine he had come to know as Home.

He grinned to himself at the thought: he worried for the Doctor, the Doctor worried himself half to death over him. They were quite the pair.

The half-hearted quirk on the Time Lord’s lips became more genuine when Rory smiled at him, though he could still see wariness in the light of the Doctor’s eyes. Tension crawled over the alien’s shoulders with every struggling step they took and Rory fought back a sigh, suddenly missing the delighted exuberance the Doctor used to display with every new planet or idea they came across. He understood _why_ it was missing, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t mourn it being gone.

He gathered the air to ask how much further they had to go, when the Doctor stumbled to a halt, hand waving heavily in front of him as he gestured for Rory to stop as well. It took a second to comply as his momentum seemed to compel him forward even as his legs tried to obey the commands his brain was sending. He panted slowly, harshly against the drag of the air around them, his lungs struggling to gather oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide. He forced himself to stop concentrating on his body’s automatic responses, curiosity making it easier to do so, as he watched the Doctor bend over what looked like yet another scraggly outcropping of rock, sonic out and buzzing as he examined the structure of the completely ordinary chunk of…what looked like granite. 

Not that Rory was an expert on granite, really.

He contemplated being bored, though he was pleased with the idea that he _could_ be bored on an actual planet after eight months of confinement and paranoia inside the TARDIS. No, it wasn’t their first planet after that span of time, to tell the truth – but the other almost didn’t count. They weren’t really there long enough for it to matter. Though _something_ there seemed to spark the Doctor’s interest in exploring again…

Rory almost didn’t dare ask in case the Time Lord became self-conscious and they wound up spending another eight months shuffling down endless corridors and avoiding everything of importance except each other. So instead he sat back and watched with fond annoyance and more than a touch of curiosity as the Doctor mumbled to himself and soniced the soil around the boulder, too winded to ask a lot of questions and too alert for trouble to rest comfortably.

A few minutes passed as he watched the Doctor and the surrounding landscape, the ability to sit down and catch his breath (relatively speaking) not easing the discomfort and pressure on his body. The Doctor seemed to drag through his explorations, his own body flagging in the denser gravity. Rory knew that should be of concern. The Doctor supposedly could go through different gravities and even an oxygen-less atmosphere for a short period and not suffer any major consequences from it. But ever since the loss of Amy, the loss of the Doctor’s surety and spark –

No wonder his physical body was severely affected. Stress could do a lot of weird things. And no matter what else had happened here within the last few months, the stress had never really seemed to go away. It was always two steps forward one step back. Sometimes, Rory reflected with weary wonder, it seemed that the resolutions they had found together weren’t really resolutions after all. It was all very much one-sided. 

Not that this was enough to make him give up.

He pulled his eyes away from the surrounding landscape (nothing but gray, gray and more gray with scatterings of green to break up the desolate monotony), to find the Doctor’s eyes on him, their depths unreadable, his mouth thin with thought. Then the alien blinked and smiled at him, the gravity seeming to pull it out of shape, taking it from reassuring to haunting in less time than it took for Rory to drag in his next breath.

“You should…head back,” the Doctor rasped, shuffling towards him with only one or two glances at the sonic – an indicator that he was far from done. “This planet…the gravity…is a third denser than…Earth’s. _Dangerous_. Not…good.”

Rory shook his head slowly, heart sinking (and not due to denser gravitational pull) when the Doctor looked distressed at his reluctance, sonic being pocketed as he waved his fingers close to one another, never allowing them to touch. He still had that strange aversion to physical contact (only absent in the darkness of Rory’s bedroom), but it was really pronounced when he became upset. Something Rory didn’t even think the Time Lord realized.

“Please…” the Doctor pleaded, hands dancing through the air, hovering over Rory’s shoulder when he got closer, but never, ever _touching_. “Rory – ”

“No,” Rory croaked. “Not…without….you.”

The Doctor frowned, the look too at home in the corners of his eyes and mouth for Rory’s liking – but it was an expression, it was a _reaction_ and Rory found he would take what he could get. The Doctor still acted like they were in an alternate reality sometimes (one he was bound to wake up from at any moment), and though that was an idea Rory could relate to, it still fractured something inside when he’d find him wandering aimlessly in the TARDIS, List locked behind his lips just waiting to spill out.

“Dangerous,” the Time Lord whispered. “More for you…than me. Please… _Rory_.”

Rory thought about the metaphor that was sitting between them at that moment: the gravity of the planet a reflection of the pull they had on one another. The gravity of what the Doctor meant to him, how they were pulled so close together based off of one shift of their personal reality. The tectonic plates of their world rising and falling as they struggled to remake what they were then into what they are now. Gravity beneath their feet, gravity encompassing their relationship; how they had come to need each other so desperately in such a short period of time. 

Rory needed the Time Lord to realize his actions, his lack of care when it came to his own survival would have grave consequences on Rory’s _own_ survival. He would survive, that much was sure – but he would never be able to _live_ again. He was slowly learning how to do that (living), even as they took two steps forward and one step back.

And still he wondered what the Doctor had found in that marketplace in the Andromeda Nebula that had spurred this leap onto a planet that was dangerous to them both. He was pleased about the sudden spark, but more than a little worried as to its cause: more so when he saw the reckless fire burning in the Doctor’s features. It was safe enough for Rory, that fire – but if he didn’t keep an eye on the Time Lord, it would burn the alien alive from the inside out.

“Fine.” Rory said slowly, letting his concern show plainly on his face, though he figured the Doctor would misinterpret it as concern for himself in the end. The Doctor didn’t disappoint in that regard, smile softening slightly, even as Rory’s heart thudded and scraped in his chest. “But…Doctor –”

“Good. You’ll…be safe…nothing here…so…far.” The Doctor nodded, motioning in the TARDIS’ direction. “Should be…fine…as you…head back.”

‘ _That’s not the point_ ,’ Rory thought tiredly. ‘ _That’s not the point at all._ ’

“Be…behind me?” Rory gritted, trying to convey his feelings a little more clearly. The unhappiness at leaving the Time Lord to his own devices in an unknown environment. The need for the Doctor’s safety to be assured. The fear that things can change in the blink of an eye (as they had once already) and Rory wouldn’t be there to help him, to save him – especially from himself. “Promise.”

The Doctor nodded then shrugged, smile flickering on his lips as he glanced behind him to the innocuous boulder that seemed to have peaked his interest, gaze already distant – like Rory was no longer there. As far as Rory knew, maybe he no longer was. He licked his lips and tried again, the grind of his voice over the atmosphere seeming to capture the Doctor’s fleeting attention – something that pleased him, even as it made him even more tired.

“ _Promise. Doctor._ ”

The Doctor hesitated, eyes caught on Rory’s own, so alive and _aware_ for a moment, Rory could feel the heaviness of his insides lighten just a touch. 

“I…promise,” the Doctor breathed, leaning close to convey the seriousness of that promise. He further cemented it by laying his hand lightly on Rory’s shoulder, barely a brush of fingers – but the gesture more than enough to ease the tightness in Rory’s chest, knowing the effort that must have taken the Time Lord – what it must have cost him. “Rory… _go_.”

Rory gave a short nod and gathered his strength to stand, wobbling slightly as he did so, knees protesting the extra pressure of his own weight, bones grinding with heaviness. He noted that the Doctor put out a steadying hand – and though it never touch him, he felt reassured once more. This planet (as horrible as it was), seemed to be a step forward in more ways than one. The Doctor was curious, he was out here, he was relaxed enough to send Rory back by himself (and Rory knew that cost him something too, sending Rory back without being there to watch him the whole way) and he could touch him without the Dark – even if it was only for a moment.

Though every step Rory took away from their strange little sanctuary ate at him, his resolve wavering with every shaky move forward. He stopped often, not just to catch his breath (like he told himself), but to assure himself the Time Lord was still there; eyes seeking out the dwindling form of the Doctor each and every time, until he could see him no longer. 

But on the blessing side, by the time Rory couldn’t even catch the slightest glimpse of him (even as a tiny figure staggering tiredly against the washed out background), the deep blue of the TARDIS came into view above him. He dragged his tired limbs to Her doors, leaning for a moment against the solidness of Her frame, eyes almost aching with how bright and _there_ She was compared to the rest of Her surroundings. 

He tried to not think about the gray that permeated everywhere, as a sudden flash of another gray planet (and what had happened there), trickled into his thoughts. He had no idea why it had never struck him before, the similarities between the two landscapes – but figured it might have been out of a sense of self-preservation and sanity.

A terrible, gnawing urge to turn back, grab the Doctor (as he had eight months before) and drag him to the safety of His Old Girl overcame him, but he fought it off, recognizing it as the baseless fear it was. Rory had to make his own strides forward – and opening Her door and slipping inside the safety of Her console room was a sure beginning. 

He leaned against the rough surface at his back and breathed without effort, limbs watery as he tried to acclimate once more to a gravity that his body was more used to.

He stayed there for quite a few minutes, thoughts whirling busily as the pressures of a more regulated gravity layered itself across the stretch of his bones. His heart was _still_ pounding out of rhythm five minutes later when he staggered away from the doors, knees protesting the shift of weight all over again as he mounted the three steps to the main hub. He sank down on the nearest jump-seat gratefully, wondering if the Doctor’s insistence was based off of the stress on Rory’s all too fragile body – or if he had noticed the eerie similarities of the planet they were on now…and the planet they had been on eight months before.

He shook off the idea, knowing full well the Doctor must have noticed (even as vague and wandery as he had become) and Rory didn’t know whether he’d kiss him or punch him when he came back through the TARDIS doors. Gratitude for the Time Lord’s consideration of Rory’s feelings warred with fear as the minutes stretched from fifteen to thirty; Rory’s worry thundering through his veins, even as his mind picked over everything outside of the TARDIS doors – on this planet and the last one they had come upon. 

They had been forced outside more than anything else. 

The TARDIS had sprung a cog so to speak and the Doctor directed him through an emergency landing on Terridien Five (still unable to force himself to touch Her), his voice soothing and unhurried, even when Rory had pulled a stabilizer the wrong way. Her landing was rougher than usual, though whether that was his amateur flying or the misfiring part, Rory couldn’t say. It had still taken over an hour for the Doctor to allow either of them to cross the threshold, his anxiety palpable until the TARDIS made an odd groaning noise, the sound driving him to hurry Rory out of Her doors with a haste that was almost comical. Even as his fear was anything but funny.

They found the part almost immediately. 

They had taken barely two steps away from the TARDIS (Rory oddly comforted by Her presence at his back), before the Doctor was declaring happily over an object that looked like the handle of a wheelbarrow – digging in his pockets to pull out five reddish disks that seemed to pass for currency in the alien marketplace – not even bothering to haggle in desperation to get back inside His Girl. The stall owner seemed surprised at the amount, but happily took the disks, waving to the object of the Time Lord’s desire, even as the Doctor snatched it rudely off of the table, turning back to the TARDIS with a speed that had left Rory’s head spinning. 

But that wasn’t right either – or at least not entirely the truth as he remembered it. 

_Something_ had caught the Time Lord’s attention before he hurried Rory through the TARDIS doors: the hesitation was less than a fraction of a second, but it was still long enough that Rory noticed the radical change of mood almost as soon as the Doctor closed those same doors with a soft click of sound. There was a new tension to his face, a new determination to his stride – his body vibrating with barely suppressed energy. 

It should have been a relief. It should have brought a sense of peace. 

Although…

When questioned about what he had seen (or heard) that had set him off, the Doctor waved it all away with a casual flick of his fingers, eyes bright with a fresh anxiety, his voice tight yet mild as he guided Rory through the installation of the part. Then they were in the vortex, nothing more said about it. 

Two days later they were here.

So much progress made in such a short period of time. 

Rory was grateful for whatever had renewed the Doctor’s drive to explore, but it didn’t stop the niggle of dread that had taken up residence in his gut. It didn’t stop him from wondering what caused it – and what new consequences would befall them from it. 

There was something wrong here…and as the minutes stretched past the half hour mark, the feeling became less of a feeling and more of a surety. Something had changed. The change was drastic enough to yank the Time Lord out of his months-long, established pattern. He was hiding something – it might not have been intentional, _deliberate_ – but it was off-putting enough that it only added to the weight in Rory’s gut, his fear that once again horror would descend on their heads and he would be unable to arm himself against it. 

He was just pulling himself to his feet, gearing up to wade back outside the TARDIS to find the Doctor and ease his burgeoning anxiety – when the doors burst open with sudden violence – the Time Lord in question collapsing bonelessly across the TARDIS’ threshold. He struggled to push himself up (likely to close the doors) but fell back with a sigh, blinking muzzily in Rory’s direction when the human rushed to do it for him, moving faster than he would have thought possible even ten minutes ago. 

Rory gave the doors a rough shove, barely noticing when they closed as he fell to his knees beside the Doctor, heart pounding wildly as he checked him for any injuries. A quick glance told him that there were no visible signs of external trauma, but he was unsure what the gravity outside of the TARDIS would have done to the Time Lord internally. 

He berated himself for failing to learn Gallifreyian physiology, fingers combing frantically through the soft fall of the Doctor’s hair as the alien struggled for breath beside him, chest rising and falling too slowly for Rory’s comfort. He curled his fingers in the warm silk of the Doctor’s hair, the need to touch him overriding even thought – the solid feel of the Time Lord under Rory’s hand more reassuring than words would ever be. He hauled the Time Lord half into his lap, indulging in his pressing need for contact as he did a more thorough check of his limbs and respiration, palm pressed flat between the slowing thud of the two hearts in the Doctor’s chest, the alien too worn out to protest or flinch away from the slide of Rory’s hands.

“No more,” Rory rasped, fear making his voice thinner, harsher than he would have liked. “Never again. You were…you were gone too long. You _promised_ –”

“Rory,” the Doctor cut in, his smile as faded and gray as his lips. “I’m here. I’m sorry – I thought…I’m sorry.”

Rory shook his head, swallowing back the sudden urge to weep – relief so sharp and bright in his chest he could practically taste it as it leaked across the stretch of his skin, settling into the sharp edges of his soul. Rory held him tighter, practically crushing him in his frantic need to keep him close, memory of the last time he had held him near these doors (the grip so similar it was frightening), leaving him choking on that need. Gasping around the urge to scream and sob, relief and fear so muddled in his heart he didn’t know where one left off and the other began.

To his credit, the Doctor stayed still, letting Rory hold him, even as his own hatred of touch must have been half-killing him. He murmured nonsense into Rory’s shoulder, the frantic tattoo of his hearts eventually slowing to a normal rhythm, his own fingers curling hesitantly into the twilled fabric of Rory’s over-shirt, as he let the human rocked him on the floor of the TARDIS control room. Eventually Rory got enough control over his emotions to release the Time Lord, though he couldn’t resist one final swipe of shaking fingers through the fringe over the Doctor’s forehead, pushing it out of the way of his eyes – those same eyes so steady on his own, willing strength to him through their intense focus.

“Sorry,” the Time Lord murmured, gaze dropping away as he detangled his limbs from Rory’s grip. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed and then…”

“The gravity,” Rory assented, forgiveness weaving through the soft chide of his tone, his voice shakier than he would have liked. 

“The gravity,” the Doctor agreed, looking sheepish and lost all at once. “Next time –”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” Rory blurted, determination and a slight touch of anger hardening his words as they dropped from his lips. “Not again. You _can’t_ …no more.”

The Doctor jerked his head in a slight nod, still refusing to look at him as he shuffled to his feet, pausing only long enough to make sure Rory was behind him as he mounted the steps to the console – mind already on the next destination, the next planet, the next risk. Rory knew even as he fell in step with the Time Lord (close, so close), that he would never be able to explain all that had flashed through his mind as the alien fell through the TARDIS doors. The fear thick enough to stumble his steps, catch his breath in his throat. The grim certainty that it had gone so horribly wrong – and it was his fault. He would never be fast enough, he would never be smart enough…that he would never be _enough_. That his own gravity wasn’t enough to keep the Doctor by his side. The pull of what they were to each other, what they meant to one another so pale in the face of the Doctor’s own lack of self-preservation as to be practically non-existent. 

That whatever he had seen in the marketplace a mere two days ago was enough to spin him out of Rory’s orbit and into the path of destruction. 

And he didn’t even _see_ it.

He set the TARDIS in motion, the groan of Her engines telling him the gravity of the planet was just as stressful on the Ship as it had been on Her occupants. He dared a glance at the too-gray stretch of flesh under the Doctor’s eyes – those eyes bright with a fever he couldn’t begin to understand. A fever the Doctor seemed reluctant to explain.

He drank in the sight of his last anchor to reality and wondered when the same need that pulled them together would finally tear them apart. When the pull of Rory, of everything that Rory meant to him would no longer be sufficient. He wondered and dreaded that day, though it seemed to draw closer than he had ever thought possible and far faster than he was prepared for. 

He said a reluctant good night as the floor lightened under his feet – the vortex they were passing through less stressful on Her main engines as She skated on the waves of Time; that same Time funneling them forward into the Unknown. 

He hoped the Doctor would follow him, that he would allow him to hold him in the dark – suddenly, achingly aware of how few those times could be now. The sorrow of that idea dogged his heels as he trudged to his bedroom, weary down to the marrow of his bones – the gravity of the planet they had just left still clinging to the movement of muscle and sinew – sense memory (old and new) warring for dominance over his limbs. He laid himself down carefully, tense as he wait for a man that might not come, eyes wide and staring into the depths of the dark, knowing what it would mean if the Doctor didn’t show, knowing that the way ahead would be much trickier even if he did.

It was all in question in the end, and the answer consisted of gravity…


End file.
